


Midday Sun

by CieldelaRose



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dragon!Hanzo, Everyone is a hybrid, Gecko!Genji, M/M, Mutt!McCree, No mpreg, Slow Burn, but both like hot cowboy ass, very platonic shimada brothers that love each other like brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CieldelaRose/pseuds/CieldelaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree runs from his problems all the way to Japan and becomes acquainted with one of Japan's most powerful families. He's suddenly thrust into some deep family drama, and honestly he'd rather not be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seadog

**Author's Note:**

> Important Hybrid things:  
> Different classes of hybrids are considered more "pureblood" than others due to their rarity.  
> Domesticated Canines were most common, as well as domesticated felines. Then wolves, coyotes and birds, as well as some other species. Bears and Large Felines are uncommon and Reptiles are the most rare, some species more "important" than others.

_Things are looking up_ , he thought, suddenly feeling incredibly less seasick. He could see land from the small pressurized window, and they’d be probably docking soon, if the exited shouts and squawks upstairs meant anything. He was sore and probably smelt like a bag full of fish, but a week of travelling illegally on a Japanese ship would do that to a man. 5000 miles ago he’d taken shelter on one of the docked ships at the pier he was working in. What he initially hoped would be a few hours of squatting in the lower deck of a huge oil tanker turned into a week and a half of pure salty hell. He’d been stealing some of their provisions on the sly when he could, but canned soup was all he could recognize, especially since everything was labeled in Japanese. (Five days in he got sick and tired of soup, and stole a small can of what looked like green pea purée or something. It turned out to **not be that** and also caused an intense spicy flavor to burn through his throat so fast it made him cry harder than anything picante his mom ever made. It also made him go through half of his supply of water. He’d stuck with the soup from then on.) He looks at the make-shift home he’s made in this tiny compartment no one sets foot in, and breathes a sigh of relief at the prospect of new sleeping arrangements.  Sleeping bags were fine and dandy, but his back and tail were severely sore after so many nights on the hard metal floor. Also his supply bag (which consisted mostly of ammo, a bottle of whiskey, fake passports and an almost empty med kit) made for a very hard pillow. He’s itching for a bath and some proper grooming.

He waited till nightfall to leave the ship, and then he caught a ride with the first kind soul heading out of the city. Takamura-san didn’t really speak English, so what little he knew about the dock worker was: He was a cat hybrid, probably a common housecat if the shape and color of his ears was anything to go by. The man worked at the docks as a mail-person or something, as seen by his now empty bags with letter icons on them. He was a 50 something married man who had absolutely no idea who Jesse was. And if the photos on his dashboard were any indication, he leads a very simple and loving life where he has 3 cat hybrid children and a pleasant smiling canine hybrid wife.

He didn’t so much introduce himself as point repeatedly inwards while calling out a name before pointing at McCree in the same fashion. Takamura-san probably assumed the cowboy was a tourist caught out after the last bus and decided to offer him a ride to the closest tourist spot open in the middle of the night. They drove for about fifty minutes, leaving the city and passing through the fields and almost isolated houses around it. When they entered what looked like a small touristy town, McCree finally spotted something he could actually read. The glowing red sign with “Hotel” on it was somewhat similar to what he was used to, and it left him feeling slightly homesick. He gestured at it so his friend understood he was good to go and Takamura-san dropped him off and waved cheerfully before driving away.

The night was clear and crisp with the cold autumn winds threatening to chill you to the bone in the wrong clothes. _Fuck it was cold_. Jesse clutched his serape closer to his chest and his ears closer to his head inside his hat and mourned the loss of his old chest peace. The old thing didn’t fit in a carry bag the way most of his things did, and anything that weighted him down meant he was slower than he could afford to be in usual circumstances. It was times like this he missed the extra protection. The deadlock gang following him all the way to Canada was a good example of why he couldn’t afford the extra luggage. He was a man on the run, and he’d seen his fair share of small dank motel rooms in the last few years. In Overwatch’s last days he gave the armor to Angela for safe keeping and booked it in the first train leaving town. The deadlock gang caught up to him a year ago, but the cowboy thought he’d left them behind when he passed the boarder. He trudged his way to the hotel while he counted how much money he had left in his shabby old wallet. The prospect of a shower and some decent sleeping arrangements warmed a bit more energy into the tired cowboy. A good night’s sleep would do him some good.


	2. Is that a gun in your pocket, or...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse meddles with someone's business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not a native english speaker, so if anything here is out of wack, please tell me.

The morning after, McCree was grasping at straws. He had little to no money left and no way to get to America. The locals hadn’t made much fuss from him being there, and with some stable income in two weeks or so he could take a bus to the nearest port and catch a cheap ride on one of the boats looking for a hand on deck. It wasn’t usually his style to stay somewhere for such a long time, but a change of scenery would do him some good. He was at least safe from the deadlock gang and none of the people in the town seemed to recognize him. Maybe he could stick around for a while, make enough to actually eat three meals a day when he got home. God knows it’s one of the few places he’ll actually get some peace from the gang, they were a bit too rustic for crime in Japan.

The only place hiring was a dimly lit bar on the edge of town. They wanted someone who could speak English, and he had some experience mixing drinks. Mind you, they served drinks a little differently than he was used to, but he learned quick and the usual clientele didn’t seem very picky. Hitoshi-san, the owner, was very jovial, and had laugh lines on the corners of his mouth and eyes.  Jesse couldn’t really appreciate his jokes, though not for the lack of trying from the bird hybrid. The man includes him in conversations with some of the regulars, no matter how much the cowboy protests. Mixing some english words in the middle of a conversation wouldn’t magically make him understand Japanese, is what Jesse’s saying.  His days were quiet enough, thankfully much warmer than at night, and he spent most of them indoors. Hitoshi-san didn’t just hire him to look pretty and serve drinks, the bird hybrid had him up at 7, moving boxes in and out of storage and generally lifting heavy things. His shift at the bar stretched until 2am, but most days it was empty after midnight or 1am so he went to the hotel early.

He’s been there for about a week when he starts seeing them around town. Bouncer-looking types in the grocery store, in the hotel, in the restaurant. It seems Jesse really can’t stay anywhere for more than a week without attracting problems. He’s been on edge since yesterday, when Hitoshi-san had tried to explain, in fragmented English, that they had an important person coming in tomorrow, and that they would have to close early. McCree has a feeling in his gut that usually would have had him skipping town, but he doesn’t really have anywhere to go at the moment. Besides, either way he’ll stay low until this blows over, and he doubts anyone can really recognize him without his signature clothes. His shifts at the bar had him in a black shirt and jeans, with a black apron on the front. The outfit was a courtesy of his employer, who’d taken a good look at him his first time around and told him with hand gestures to basically lose the hat.

At about 9pm they closed the bar and cleaned up the place a bit. Hitoshi-san was unusually shifty eyed and jumpy. By the time 11pm rolled about, most of the employees had left, not that there were many people working there to begin with. The two servers and the other bartender, a shinu dog, a brown mouse and a cat hybrid (black eared, hard to identify), had been let out early, and had left with pale faces and fidgety hands. This meant McCree was going to have to deal with this bitch of a situation on his own, not that he knew much about it yet. His employer was a very gracious man, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew Jesse was a though son of a bitch. (His scars and his missing forearm weren’t fooling anyone on that matter). Whoever these ‘honorable guests’ where, Hitoshi-san clearly thought he needed some extra protection.

His guess was proven right when two men dressed in fancy tuxedoes entered the bar. One was clearly a yakuza boss, a bear hybrid, going by his round brown ears. Short mousy hair, weathered face, strong jaw and small beady eyes, not much more than a thug with some money _. Looks like a monkey in a suit._ The other one wasn’t that easy to pin down, a reptile hybrid of some sort. Striking brown eyes peered at him from under strong eyebrows set in a frown. Long black hair spilling onto shoulders clad in a feathered cloak, pink pursed lips set in a neutral line and a handsome nose.

Hitoshi-san greeted them as they entered, and then guided them to one of the fancier booths in the back. McCree hung back, semi-hidden in the entryway that led to the storage room upstairs. Two bodyguards in the entrance and half a dozen outside, all of them with concealed weapons. If this went south too fast, he’d probably be forced to leave through the back door, and he’d have to fight his way through the henchmen on the other side of the building. He shifted his weight to feel peacekeeper rub against his tight. He didn’t feel right without his regular clothes, but at least his apron helped mask the obvious lump in the front of his pants.

Their only customers for the night spoke in calm, near silent tones for about half an hour, after which the yakuza leader started getting agitated. Jesse didn’t understand much of Japanese, but he knew a power hungry thug when he saw one. By the one-hour mark the yakuza boss pulled out a gun from his pocket and started yelling in frantic Japanese. The cowboy wished he could go a month without a bar fight breaking out around him. He pulled out his gun and approached the booth. (Maybe trouble would stop showing up on his doorstep when he stopped poking it with a metaphorical stick.)

“What seems to be the problem, fellas?” The gun wielding yakuza startled upon his approach but the other man seemed largely unfazed. He shouted some more in Japanese, this time looking between peacemaker and the almost serene man in front of him. Probably thought he was a hired gun. He heard Hitoshi-san scurrying into the kitchen and prayed the bouncers hadn’t heard the commotion from outside.

“I don’t speak a lick of Japanese, but I’m guessing y’all had a bit of a misunderstanding. How about you take it outside.” He spoke slowly, making sure to look directly into the man’s eyes. Maybe he’d take a hint and take this power struggle someplace else. The bear hybrid started yelling again, and McCree could only understand the words American and filthy dog from his heavily accented English (or what he supposed was English, he didn’t really understand jack shit). _I’ll take that as a no._ It was clear he wouldn’t back off, and the cowboy cursed his meddling nature. Just as he got used to things around here, he would have to find someplace else to get the rest of the money for his transpacific boat ride. (He wasn’t going to repeat his last travel arrangements, if he could help it. His tail was still sore). McCree heaved a sigh and put a bullet through the man’s skull before the other finished turning his gun Jesse’s way. Guess it was time to skip town.

The henchmen outside might’ve not heard the shouts, but the sound of a gun going off was unmistakable. They rushed inside from both sides of the building, effectively blocking both exits. The cowboy turned to try and vamoose his way upstairs when a hand gripped his fleshy forearm. Jesse felt his ears rear back and his tail stand in attention. He traced the slightly clawed hand up to its owner and it tightened in a vicelike grip around his arm. In the time it had taken McCree to shoot and turn, the reptile hybrid had drawn a sword and pointed it at his throat.

“Why did you aid me?” Before, he hadn’t been close enough to tell, but now he noticed the man’s voice was low and dipped in honey, a sexy drawl of perfectly enunciated, if accented, English. He tested the weight of peacemaker in his hand and looked into deep brown eyes. Jesse considered his options. It was either fighting his way through this man and everyone outside, or with this man and half the men outside. He didn’t much like his chances either way.

“Ain’t much of a reason, I just work here.” He narrowed his eyes at McCree and slackened the hand on his arm. The sword on his throat didn’t waver.

“Listen sweetheart, I don’t want any trouble. The way I see it, you’ll need my help if you want to get through this with your hide in one piece.” _Always have been a sucker for a pretty face._ The henchmen were closing in on them fast, if he wanted to get upstairs the window of opportunity was getting smaller every second. The way he held his katana suggested the man had serious combat training, and the precious minutes it’d take him to fight this handsome stranger would mean he’d be flooded with bouncers. The sword returned to the man’s side, as did the hand. He turned once more, and ran to the stairs that led to the storage room. By the time they were safely upstairs, the men downstairs had found the dead yakuza boss, and swords were suddenly clashing, guns firing, and men shouting in Japanese. On the far wall there were a couple of boxes that used to be on another corner of the room. McCree pushed them off the wall to reveal an open window to a side street _. Looks like Hitoshi-san got the heck out of dodge_. They escaped through it and into the night.


	3. Boots off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse would like to know who died and made Shimada-san king. He would also like to know how a family gets blessed with such good genes.

It was about 2am when the car Shimada-san called pulled up the front of the hotel. The man had introduced himself when they climbed the window to Jesse’s room and then proceeded to inform Jesse that he would come with him to his estate, so he could be thanked properly. McCree would much rather catch the next boat headed for American waters, but he was a car ride away from the nearest port, and no one to get him there. Besides, he had a feeling he had no chance in hell in denying anything Shimada-san ordered him to do.

So he waved away the driver when he made to take his duffel bag, stashed it in the trunk and got into the limo. It felt mighty fine to be in his regular clothes, peacemaker a solid presence in his holster and his hat a welcome weight on his head. Besides the introduction, the other man hadn’t said much, and this behavior continued throughout the forty-minute car ride. Only when they approached a large Japanese mansion did Shimada-san break the silence.

“When inside, do not speak unless spoken to. Leave your hat and your boots at the entrance.” His words were concise and unhurried and each sentence hung in the air like an impenetrable request. _Probably not used to being denied_.

“I could use a smoke before we go in.” The last time had been almost five hours ago and he felt it like and itch in his hand. Shimada-san furrowed his brow further but offered no comment. He waited until Jesse was done and his bag was unloaded before leading him inside. A serious but beautiful woman stood in the center of the entryway, a rare peacock hybrid, something the cowboy though he wouldn’t see outside of a tv screen. She had a familiar scowl on her face. Shimada-san and his mother traded words in Japanese, almost whispering, and the cowboy admits to feeling slightly uncomfortable when their eyes slide toward him at the end of the conversation. The woman’s scowl lifts slightly, a somewhat soft smile overtaking her face.

“So, you are the man that saved my son’s life.” McCree highly doubts Shimada-san didn’t have everything under control, gun or no gun the other man didn’t stand a chance. Jesse understands this for what it is. _Gotta keep up appearances._ “Stay for dinner, so we can thank you properly.”

“Thank you kindly ma’am, but I’d rather-“ Her face hardens and her mouth sets in an unforgiving line. Jesse backtracks. “I-uh- thank you, ma’am.” She nods approvingly and her son relaxes slightly.

“My son will show you to your room.” She turns to the reptile hybrid and speaks in Japanese before leaving them. Shimada-san continues to be a quiet, solemn presence, and the air inside this traditional Japanese home is stifling. He removes his serape and throws it on his arm. Jesse feels weird walking around with only socks on. The hallways they pass are empty save for a maid or two, all of them with serene expressions on their faces. McCree is starting to feel antsy with their slow pace. They slow to a stop next to one of the many doors just as a cheerful voice rings through the hallway.

“Brother, who is this?” The man on the other end of the hallway is a green haired gecko hybrid who looks much too carefree to be related to the man that pulled a sword to his throat about 3 hours ago. _How do ya get genes like these, this family is too pretty._ Both brothers were handsome as all hell. (The sharp jaw, strong eyebrows, pretty dark eyes combination really did it for Jesse McCree.) Shimada-san’s scowl, that had turned into a resting bitch face since he’d gotten in limo, hung low once again as he turned to… Shimada-san.. and spoke in angry Japanese. The carefree look on the other man’s face turns into a scowl too, and he can now see the resemblance between them. Jesse turns the corner from antsy and goes into really uncomfortable.

“You know nothing, brother.” The gecko hybrid snarls at his sibling, before turning to McCree. “Forgive me for not introducing myself, my name is Genji Shimada. Please, call me Genji.” The anger is gone from his face when he looks at Jesse from top to bottom. “Who might you be?” He purrs, and impossibly, the other Shimada’s scowl deepens further.

“The name’s McCree.” Jesse extends his hand for a handshake that lasts a bit longer than appropriate. “I’m staying for dinner.” The other’s smile widens predatorily and he glances between them.

“Maybe I will have dinner at home tonight.” Genji says, and stares deep into his brother’s eyes momentarily before turning away. The mutt hybrid feels very much like the elephant in the room just sat on his toes. Jesse follows Shimada-san into what he assumes is his room and finds his duffel bag already in a corner. A simple, traditional Japanese room, with a picture of mount Fuji on the wall and a flower arrangement on a small table as the only decorations. The reptile hybrid (he can’t yet pin down what type of reptile he is) slowly, surely, backs him up to a wall, and McCree lets him, feeling suddenly like he isn’t the biggest predator in the room, despite their height differences.

“Do not listen to my brother.” There’s that low voice again, a whiskey-like tone in the command. Jesse feels an involuntary shiver run through him and wonders were the heck that came from. Regardless, he isn’t a man easily swayed by another man’s powerful form. Especially not by a brat who’s never known the word “no”. McCree doesn’t respond, and Shimada wrongly takes that as consent. Jesse’s ears stay turned toward him, even as he stops crowding him and leaves the room. The cowboy already dreads dinner. _Jesse McCree, what did you get yourself into this time._


	4. Smoke in the garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse takes a midnight stroll.

Dinner is…different than McCree though it would be, to say the least. Some of the awkwardness he expected is still there, but broken by the youngest and the oldest Shimada’s laughter. Hanzo and Genji’s father is a bulky man with a somewhat serious face. Ryoma Shimada was a snake hybrid with small, brown eyes, black scales and a large but slender tail. When they met, the silence in the room made Jesse think he’d have to go another round of monkey see monkey do with the Shimada, but a shout of “Otou-san!” from upstairs made the man’s brows part like the red sea. Ryoma Shimada was an incredibly _enthusiastic_ man. A cup of sake or two and he was telling Jesse about his clan’s story. It was apparently very, _very_ old and owned all of the region they were in. Very traditional, with the rare bloodlines and such and extremely well supplied, in what, the cowboy could only guess. That just about confirmed McCree’s suspicions. _You’ve really stepped in it, cowboy._ If they were as powerful as they seemed, getting out of their “good graces” wouldn’t be as easy as he initially thought. At this rate he’d never get back to America. This is why you don’t follow pretty strangers into fancy cars.

By the time desert was served the rancorous laughter from Genji and his father subsided into silence, and McCree started feeling an _itch_ on the back of his neck.

“So, McCree-san, what do you do for a living?” Kyoko Shimada’s question cut the silence like butter. Genji stares openly at him while Hanzo and their mother stare at him from the corner of their eyes. _Shit_.

“I-um, whatever work I can get my hands on, mostly as a waiter or a-uh, farm hand.” _Not a complete lie_. They stared at him for a moment longer before turning to their food. There’s a couple of minutes of silence before she stares at him directly.

“What brings a man with…gifts such as yours to Japan?” _Gosh dang it_. They stop eating entirely. _Shit shit shit._

“I don’t-uh like to stay in the same place for long. Decided to see some new sights, y’know? Why not Japan? I was thinking of going south next, maybe check out the beaches.” _Nailed it_.

“I was hoping you’d stay for longer, McCree-san. It would be only right to thank you for saving my brother’s life.” Genji Shimada stares at him dead on, his green scales bright under the dining room’s light, his eyes shining. His mother’s influence, so evident in Hanzo’s behavior, finally shone through Genji’s. His voice brokered no arguments.

McCree limited himself to subdued nodding and finishing his dinner in silence. He wasn’t born yesterday, any man with eyes could see something fishy was going on. They were obviously yakuza of some sort, violent or not, obviously powerful and skilled in fighting. If he was going to plan a disappearing act, he should stay quiet and wait till their backs were turned. Jesse felt like he’d have better chances if he was trying to get out of the slammer. McCree waited till everyone was done before slowly heading to his room.

Every entrance he’d seen thus far wouldn’t be viable for a quick getaway. If he wanted to leave early he’d have to case the Shimada estate for alternate routes.

The canine hybrid waited till the middle of the night to go out into the hall. He’d heard the servants go to their quarters two hours ago.  Jesse would play the American idiot who got lost on his way somewhere. Luckily, this was a role he played all too well. McCree would use his ‘insomnia’ as pretense and see if the side of the building, were the Shimada servants slept, held any promising exits.

The doors to a small side garden slid open without much fuss. Everything was silent here, not a soul to be seen, but the cowboy remained on alert. _Just cuz I can’t see them, don’t mean they can’t see me._ He sat down as far from the house as he dared, looking at the surrounding trees for possible exits. The air smells vaguely flowery, like jasmine. Jesse was right to remain on alert. Not five minutes later, a shadow fell on his own, bigger than the one his sitting form made in the moonlight.

“Howdy.” He looked up at the man. Hanzo Shimada stood next to him, face unreadable.

“…Hello.” If he was surprised to see the cowboy, his face didn’t betray it. He sat next to McCree, his now usual brooding expression in place.

They sit in silence for a while, a light breeze ruffling through the trees around them, the smoke from Jesse’s cigar rising slowly and peacefully. Just as he’s about to mark this place down as unsuitable and go to bed, Shimada breaks the silence.

“It would not be wise to depart…early.” _He was that transparent, huh?_ Hanzo’s tail curls languidly next to him, his posture relaxed. He looks just as beautiful in the moonlight, scales shining and dark eyelashes striking against his pale cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” He wasn’t giving up on his plan that easily. If the Shimada family knew of his plan, that would complicate things, but Jesse would - _uh_ \- sniff his way out eventually, _heh_. He feels the slightly cold wind against his ears and regrets not bringing his hat.

“You are peculiar, Jesse McCree.” _Well, that’s nice?_

“Thank you?” When he looks to Shimada, the other’s eyes are no longer closed.

“It was not a compliment, merely a statement of fact.” _Sassy._ McCree thinks it may be time to leave. “Leaving the Shimada estate would be…troublesome.” Jesse liked the reptile hybrid better when he didn’t sound like a cliché villain.

“You know that sounds like you’re evil right? Are you going to threaten one of my family members now? Sorry to say I don’t have any of ‘em.” Hanzo’s face twitches slightly in what the cowboy thinks is amusement, before closing off into broodiness again.

“It is not my intention to threaten you. There is more going on than you know, Jesse McCree.” _That doesn’t sound ominous at all._ The coywolf hybrid tries to engage him in meaningless conversation afterwards, maybe get some information on this big Shimada family secret, but Hanzo seems to have exhausted his word supply for the evening. After ten minutes of one sided conversation, the cowboy gives up, and finally goes to his room.


	5. Ya'll've

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets backed into a corner, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys. You know how college is.

Jesse McCree is man enough to admit that something about Kyoko Shimada rubbed him the wrong way. Hell, the whole Shimada family left him uneasy, but the woman left him especially so. He doesn’t see much of her during the day, only at dinner really, (god knows what that woman spends her days doing, killing people, or maybe calligraphy) but the glares she presents him with when she sees _him_ are far too knowing. Sometimes on his night strolls he tries opening certain doors and stops in his tracks when thinks he hears the clack of her geta on the wood floors. That woman was a disdainfully all-knowing apparition who cut through his excuses like she’d been doing it for years (maybe she has). 32 years old, and he had his tail between his legs and his ears drawn back at the thought of finding her walking the halls. Last time she’d sent him to his room. _Mothers are all the same, deep down. Witches, probably._

His days are very lonely, spent in the solitude of his cigars and his plans. It’s not just her he doesn’t see often, he doesn’t see the rest of the Shimada family either.  Whatever they were hiding, they went to great lengths to keep it under wraps. The well-bred, well payed staff, the huge surrounding forest, the really big estate. _Why is their house so big, they’re like 10 people living here._ For a family this important, they had very few members of staff. Jesse’s been here a week and seen most of them around, but he doesn’t know what they actually _do_. He knows there’s at least one gardener, two people that operate in or around the kitchen, and two on cleaning duty. Jesse has been trying to track their movements, see when and where he can trek around the Shimada home unnoticed, but he doesn’t know where anyone _is_ , most of the time. Sure, he’s seen them around, but their movements seem erratic at best. All he knows so far is that one of the kitchen staff, a large bulky deer hybrid, can be found in the dinning room at 5 pm and there’s regularly a gardener in the center garden around 7am. Other than the kitchen staff, who can be found in the kitchen near meal times, everyone else’s routine is virtually unknown. McCree feels like he’s playing a very tedious game of cluedo where there isn’t: a) a dead body and b) any fuckin clues. _The way things are goin’, that dead body’s gonna be me. Here lies Jesse McCree, bored to death._

            The cowboy has made a living out of the bounty-hunting business. If there’s one thing he can do, its track people. Ninjas or no, (McCree’s money is on ninjas), the staff in the Shimada estate either don’t go through the same hallways as Jesse, which means they know where he is all the time, or they exist on another plane of existence. The Shimadas were even more elusive. He tough it would be hard to interact with them, cultural differences and criminal backstory in mind, but what bothers him is the lack of interaction. Dinners aside, they don’t eat meals together. McCree has tried visiting the kitchen at various times of the morning and evening, going as far as four am, but he ain’t seen hide nor hair of them so far. On his eight day as ‘esteemed guest’ of the Shimada estate, he gives up on tracking their morning schedule, and takes his breakfast (a sandwich he _insisted_ he made himself, much to the annoyance of the whiskered maid on kitchen duty) outside.

The balcony on the second floor was a perfect scouting location, even if completely out in the open. He’d been here once before, on his now usual late night smokes, but he couldn’t see the perimeter very well in the middle of the night. Besides, he was under no impression that they didn’t track his movements all the time. The sky was a light greyish blue with some low hanging clouds that promised a thick afternoon fog. From here, he could see the edges of the property, stretched far and wide into a dense surrounding forest. _Id haggard a guess that whole forest is still Shimada property._

He’s just about done with his sandwich when someone drops down from the roof, corny ninja landing and all. _Show off_. Genji Shimada stands before him, cheeky grin stretched from cheek to cheek, inquisitive eyes surrounded by faint green scales.

“Good morning, McCree-san, are you out for some fresh air?” He somehow smiles wider, as if mocking him slightly. All this time he tried to have breakfast with a Shimada, and the moment he gives up, one of them comes falling out of the sky. Jesse wonders if this game of peek-a-boo with a foreigner is something all the Shimadas enjoy, or just the younger ones. Ryoma-san might be into it too. _Maybe I really did need to get some fresh air, all these game analogies might be a sign I’m goin stir crazy._ “Mind if I join you, Inu-san?” Jesse was pretty sure he was being called something right here, sharpest tool in the shed or no, but the gecko hybrid seemed to have said it in jest, so McCree lets it slide. Besides, he’s just presented him with a good opportunity to sniff around, if the creek don’t rise.

“I’m fixin’ to be done soon, but I don’t suppose you’d show me around?” He tries to lay on some southern charm. “I reckon’ with how bored I am I might just fly of the handle.” He chuckles. _Not entirely untrue._ The ninja’s smile turns sultry. _Well I’ll be damned._

“Of course, mister McCree, I’d be happy to help you _get loose_ ” He sweetens the mister, purrs a bit at the end of it, but looks away from him, into the far left corner of the front garden (if it could even be called that).Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he takes one of the dog hybrid’s hands and pulls him away from the balcony, into the first floor. Jesse feels a bit of hope at all the sudden secrecy. Maybe he’d get some insight on the elephant in the room. The younger Shimada seemed to be more rebellious than his brother, perhaps trying to break away from the strictness of his family name, the eyes that must follow him as well. What a perfect way to rebel, to tell Jesse of this secret they kept under wraps.

The cowboy feels whatever hope he was brewing die as the other hybrid pulls him into a dark corner and slides his hand up onto his forearm. _Might want to defy his family in other ways then_. The lizard’s tail sways slightly sideways in a way the cowboy usually associates with cat hybrids and his hand settles into Jesse’s side, cooler than his body temperature. Despite himself, McCree feels a shiver travel up his spine.

“My brother is looking for you.” He whispers, and Jesse wishes that would’ve ruined the mood he thought they were building here, but that just seems to stoke his interest. _Great._ That disturbing personal semi-kink aside, a week in semi-solitary confinement and suddenly he has two Shimadas looking for him? The gunslinger wonders if they usually travel in twos, or if it was just these two feuding siblings.

“I am not the only one who’s…curious, Jesse McCree. My brother has talked to you, yes?” He feels a sudden trickle of annoyance at what was probably the Shimada’s backwards way of complimenting people. He ain’t some kind of shiny new toy for the brothers to scuffle over. As curious about their affairs as the cowboy was, a man has his pride. _Let these idjits find some docile stag to have a pissing contest over_. Jesse stores his interest in the Shimada Family Secret lower on his priorities.

“Ya’ll’ve got to be pullin my tail.” He pulls the gecko hybrid’s hand away from his side. The Shimada looks shocked, his tail stopping mid-swing, but removes his other hand from McCree. _Well I’ll be damned, the brat’s got **some** manners. _ He slides slightly away from Jesse, but doesn’t try to apologize. “See ya at dinner, Shimada-san.” The dog hybrid feels his heckles rise slightly, and he squares his shoulders. Wouldn’t do for these high-bred folk to forget Jesse was a predator too. A smirk and a flash of fang and he sidesteps the ninja and heads for the lower floor. Almost 11am, maybe the kitchen staff could use a hand with lunch. That would entertain him for a while, probably.

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes on what animals the others are, although I dont expect them to appear in this fic:  
> Pharah, Ana and Mercy - Birds  
> Mei - Husky  
> Jack - Wolf  
> Reaper - Owl  
> Tracer - Monkey  
> Zarya - Siberian Bear  
> Zen - Robot Bird -- his alternate skin  
> Symmetra - Bengal tiger  
> Rein - Lion   
> D.Va - Rabbit  
> Lúcio - Frog  
> Torb - Hamster   
> Roadhog - Boar  
> Junkrat - Dingo  
> Widowmaker - Siamese Cat  
> McCree is actually a mix of coyote and mutt.


End file.
